Faith in This Knife
by The sound of rain
Summary: Yup this is a story about Ziva and her comming to terms with herself and accepting that she needs help Sorry for the rubbish summary guys Rated M for theme of Self-harm and suicide


**AN: **_Unfortunately i don't own N.C.I.S or the characters or the funky theme tune so no copyright infringement intended. This is a story for us people who love the show._

_The Title for this chapter is a title to a song by Scary Kids Scaring Kids (An awesome band) so again no copyright intended._

_In my story Ziva has O.C.D (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) because I could just visualise her with O.C.D. And no I'm not poking fun at people with O.C.D because I suffer from it too, if anything i want to draw attention to it so don't moan at me later okay._

_That's about it really. Reviews would be nice 'because this is my first fanfic but please try and be constructive with your criticism because it would help. Thanks for taking the time to read this and i hope you enjoy part of it, if not all of it._

_Rated M for safety and it's theme of self-harm and suicide in this chapter and in the ones' soon to come_

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**Faith in This Knife**

She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands held the knife loosely, the blade glinting in the light. Outside was almost silent accept from the odd bark of a stray dog or the sound of a passing cars engine. She stood up and walked towards the mirror that hung on the wall and straightened it. Her reflection was dim but showed her face. The dark circles under her eyes, the newly formed stress wrinkles and a mouth that had not smiled in over a week. This was Ziva David. This is what she had been reduced to.

The clock on the wall showed half past eleven but Ziva knew it was fast by at least ten minutes. An empty bottle of vodka lay on the floor - the cap attached - and next to it was a notebook. A notebook which held five hundred and forty-six pages (she had torn out four pages because she didn't like the number four hundred and fifty, it seemed so...so wrong to her) each filled with neat legible writing which read the same thing on every page:

_I can't escape this, it has overcome my mind_

The phone rang, its dull polyphonic ringtone echoed around the house. Ziva made no move to go through to the main room and retrieve it. Five minutes later her mobile rang. She looked at the caller I.D - Tony – and threw the phone against the wall. Placing the knife on the edge of her bed Ziva went into the main room to check her answering machine. Two new messages. She pressed play and the room filled with her voice

"This is Officer Ziva David's residence please leave a message after the tone"

The message had thirteen words, one word to many for the pattern, she would re-record it in a minute. Next the voice of McGee filled the small apartment:

"Hi um Ziva your um hard drive is uh fixed the uh magnetic sealant was uh not working. I'll give it to you at uh work tomorrow"

She sighed and pressed next

"Ziva. I know you're not picking up your phone on purpose, no-one can contact you. Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Ducky, your father. He's contacted the office so many times the director has had to set up an extra phone line. And me..."

Ziva felt a sudden rush of anger at Tonys' placement of names. How dare he make himself seem more important than her father. She nearly threw the phone at the wall in anger but instead listened to the rest of the message.

"...Ziva we're worried about you. You barely talk any more and you always rush home. Why are you shutting everyone out? Com'on Ziva pick up the phone damit. What i would give to hear you speak in a normal voice, not that monotone one you speak with at work. Ziva...please"

She closed her eyes as the message ended. Tony was right, to be honest he was rarely wrong, but she refused to acknowledge that she was in the wrong. She wandered back through to her room and stood in the doorway staring at the knife. It was in control which made Ziva agitated. She needed control in her life, she needed order. The only two things she needed to have but now one had been taken away. She held her right wrist up to her face to examine. Three semi-healed cuts lay across her wrist, each the same length and each the same distance apart. A previous conversation with Tony echoed in her head:

"_Ziva, what's that on your wrists?"_

"_Nothing"_

"_It looks like a something Ziva" Tony stepped closer and caught her wrist. His grip wasn't tight nor was it loose but it couldn't be described as firm. It was as if he wanted her to try and pull away. Ziva looked at the floor – she hated lying to Tony_

"_Tony let go" Her voice was hollow._

_Tony rolled back her sleeve and stared at the marks on her wrist. "Ziva...?"_

_Ziva snatched her arm back and pulled her sleeve back down. They were in a coffee shop, undercover as a couple of drug dealers. They were waiting on their coffees when tony had spotted the marks on her wrist. _

"_It was my cat that scratched me"_

"_You don't own a cat Ziva" His face looked generally worried. Ziva could feel her face burning as the coffee arrived._

_Ziva said nothing. She looked at the floor, staring intently at the tile which had been laid squint. She thought that if she stared long enough everyone would disappear and she would be alone. Tony broke the scilence:_

"_Look" He whispered as he grabbed both of her wrists "Ziva look at me" his voice sounded desperate so she looked up. "I dunno what's going on but i want you to tell me why you have been reduced to this" he indicated to her wrists. "You need help"_

"_I don't need help" she said half-heartedly_

"_I don't care who you talk to, if it be a psychologist, a physiatrist, Abby, Gibbs...just someone."_

_Ziva fought back a surge of emotions at once. She resisted the urge to start crying. She resisted the urge to beat Tony senseless. She resisted the urge to laugh like a maniac in the middle of the coffee shop. She resisted the urge to feel anything and stared blankly at Tony who seemed to know he was fighting a losing battle. _

She came back to reality reluctantly. That was last month. She had made no attempt to talk to anyone that Tony suggested. The only person she wanted to talk to would not take her hand and help her back on her feet and she didn't know why. They wanted to help and tried to help indirectly but when she had tried to speak to them they had shirked away. The only person she wanted to talk to was Tony.


End file.
